Okay, so I'm back at my own computer, at last. After leaving the library yesterday, I biked over to Circuit City, bought a new hard drive, and then stopped at Modell's Sporting Goods on my way back home to buy myself a jockstrap -- a cyberchat buddy had talked about how he liked to wear one while checking himself out in the mirror, and I thought that sounded pretty hot. So, as I type this, I'm practically naked except for the fabric pouch that holds my hairy balls and semi-erect penis.

Um, not so much ''semi'' now...

Anyway, let me fill you in on my trip to NYJacks last week. For the benefit of any guys in the NYC metro area who are interested in attending a Jacks party but are a little apprehensive about what unpleasant surprises may lie in store, let me start by saying that I felt entirely safe as I emerged from the F train subway station and headed east on Houston. The new location is on a busy thoroughfare with lots of commercial activity (it's just a few blocks past Katz's Deli, for one thing, for those who might want to fuel up with a pastrami on rye before undertaking several hours of feverish cock-stroking). Once you're inside, the space is clean and attractive -- it's a multi-purpose sex facility, apparently, so you gotcher leather sling, you gotcher prison bars for those who get into Oz roleplaying, I guess; downstairs there is a padded table for massages, and so on.

Shortly after I arrive, a middle-aged guy in glasses walks up and gestures to my T-shirt. ''You're Brooklyn Jack?'' he asks, and I grin and reach over to squeeze his erect penis as I answer in the affirmative. ''Hi, Rob -- I'm JOel,'' he says. JOel and I proceed to find a little corner where we can masturbate each other for a few minutes -- quietly verbalizing about how good it feels to stroke dick together. Then a third party spots my T-shirt: ''Hey, are you the guy with the website?'' This guy, Martin, is tall and handsome with a piercing through his right nipple, and despite the open tubs of Albolene that have been set out on every available horizontal surface in the room, he lubes up his cock by spitting on his hand, which I find mighty sexy, especially when he spits and then grabs my dong.

I wandered downstairs and discovered a hairy--chested dude in a baseball cap and a tanktop giving a slow dick massage to another guy on the padded massage table. I recognized Mr. Baseball Cap; he was, in fact, the inspiration for the taint entry in my Glossary -- he'd once helped me to orgasm at the old NYJacks location by sliding his chair up to mine and planting his knee right between my balls and my ass. So I decided to stick around for a bit in hopes that Mr. Baseball Cap might want to play around with me at some point. Other men drifted in, pulling on their stiff cocks as they watched the action; hey, it's Martin again! We did some poppers and spent a few minutes masturbating together before I headed upstairs to use the bathroom -- the beers I'd had at a nearby bar while waiting for NYJacks to open had gone right through me.

Later, I found myself seated in a barber's chair [Why a barber's chair in a sex club? Ya got me. The thing worked, though, and I had a fine time pumping the pneumatic lever to see just how high the seat would rise.... wheeee! -- Ed.] with JOel and Martin on either side. ''Here,'' said Joel, holding a brown bottle of Jungle Juice under my nose...

''Hnnnnnnnnnnnffffffffff! Hhhhhhhnnnnnnnfffff! Oh, man,'' I sighed, while thinking Geez, it's quiet as a tomb in here... am I the only guy who likes to get verbal when I mastu.... ''Masturbate,'' I repeated, but this time aloud. ''I'm a man and I love to fucking masturbate!'' The poppers were definitely kicking in. ''Oh FUCK, my cock feels so good gotta stroke this hard hairy erection this is so fucking hot jacking off with you guys YEAH need to rub my big dick YEAH fucking nuts full of sperm oh I love to FUCKING masturbate my erect man penis...''

Most of the bystanders seemed more amused than aroused by my verbal ejaculation, but what did I care? The only thing that mattered to me right then was the thick, masculine penis throbbing in my fist. My manhood...

[Note: I think I'm gonna do this in installments, because while there's more I want to tell you about my night at NYJacks, I've also got a backlog of reader mail to catch up on...]